And a Lullaby
by The Cheshire Girl
Summary: Harry’s got a severe case of insomnia and it seems like no one wants to treat him for it. He eventually gets help from a certain Slytherin, but this solution is doing a bit more bad than good.
1. The Nightmare

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything related to Harry Potter, nor am I affiliated with it.

**A/N:** I haven't written Harry Potter fanfiction in a little over a year, I think. It feels like longer. I _have_ been writing (and writing fanfiction) though, so I'm not entirely out of practice. In fact, I think I've gotten better. Anyway, I just recently got into this pairing and I've been itching to write and then this idea came to me, so…

To cut this note short, I'll just get to the point. This story's fully consistent with the books up until the Half Blood Prince. It's set in Harry's sixth year, Snape's still the Potions professor, Slughorn's not even in this and there will be a few events from HBP that will be in this story. That's all! Hope you enjoy!

**Warnings:** Violent nightmares, pseudo character deaths, eventual slash... You know -- the usual. ;]

* * *

**And a Lullaby**

Chapter One: The Nightmare

After the end of his fifth year, Harry thought that his life couldn't get any worse. He'd lost his godfather – practically his second father that he'd never really known – and despite what everybody told him, he knew it was fault. He was too weak and too careless. What good would he be when he had to fight against Voldemort?

This had been a great concern of Harry's ever since he found out that he really did have to fight Voldemort. He had always known, of course, that he inevitably would have to face the Dark Lord, but now the prophecy had settled that without a doubt. And to make matters worse, it seemed that it was life or death for Harry.

Harry worried that he would never be strong enough to face Voldemort and he couldn't imagine casting the Killing Curse on _anybody_, not even the slimy, dirty snake who deserved it. He thought he was too young to die though, so he'd have to put all his Gryffindor bravery to use. Besides, the entire Wizarding world was depending on him to be its savior; he couldn't let anyone else down.

With all this riding on his shoulders, it was no surprise that Harry was near his breaking point. It was all quite a bit for any sixteen year old to have to think about. As it was, Ron and Hermione were treating him like he was fragile glass, which was actually doing more harm than good for him. He understood that they cared, but they didn't _understand_ and Harry was tired of getting all this special treatment.

It seemed that more often than not those days, Harry wished that he was any other ordinary wizard. As it was, there was nothing ordinary about Harry Potter.

Around the beginning of October, Harry started getting visions that hurt his scar. They would come at any time in the day and they seemed to haunt him at night too because he'd spend hours dwelling on them. At first, he tried to hide the visions and pain from Ron and Hermione, but there was hardly anything that went on in Harry's life that the two didn't catch on to. He tried to ignore the visions, remembering the fatal ways things had ended the last time he paid any attention to the violent images he got from Voldemort, but the more he tried to ignore them, the more violent they became. It got to the point where it seemed like Harry was obsessed with them because they were always on his mind.

However, after Harry had to leave the Gryffindors' Halloween party to go to bed early after the pain in his scar almost caused him to faint, Hermione suggested (quite strongly) that Harry go to Dumbledore and ask for Occlumency lessons from Snape again. Harry strongly refused to do either, still mad about the lack of communication between him and Dumbledore after the Ministry incident and certainly not keen on taking up private lessons with Snape again. Hermione called him a stubborn masochist, but Harry wasn't hearing it. The pain from his scar would be nothing compared to the pain he'd get from Snape's lessons and the Order's worry. Harry would just learn to deal with it.

Unfortunately, things only got worse in November. Harry's daydreams became more violently vivid and no longer came to him only in the daytime. Now he got even less sleep because he was having dark nightmares and once he'd woken up from one, he tried his best not to go back to sleep.

As usual, Harry said nothing to his friends, but they all immediately noticed changes in him. He developed bags under his eyes that weren't incredibly dark or heavy, but enough to cause alarm. Ron brought up Harry's nightmares one day at breakfast, mentioning how his cries had woken up half the boys in their dorm, but Harry snapped at him so fiercely that nobody brought it up again.

At least, up until The Nightmare.

It had started out like any other night. The sixth year Gryffindor boys were all in their pajamas and ready to get to bed. Harry grimaced as he slipped under his sheets; he was not looking forward to going to sleep again. If anything, he wished sleep wasn't necessary. Then he'd only have bad daydreams, but those didn't affect him as badly. His mind was truly at its most vulnerable state when he was sleeping and it was harder to get rid of the visions when he wasn't awake. Harry didn't see the point of sleep anymore because he spent so much time trying to stay awake for as long as he could. He just preferred being exhausted to being haunted.

The boys said goodnight to each other and lights were turned off as everyone climbed into their beds. Harry reluctantly took off his glasses and was the last one to turn off his light. He stared at the ceiling of his bed and tried to keep his eyes open despite how tired – physically and emotionally – he felt. He tried thinking of how his day had gone or what his lessons would be like the next day. He tried humming songs in his head. He thought of everything that would keep him awake and keep his thoughts away from the Dark Lord. Still, despite his strong will, it still took Harry less than half an hour to fall asleep. Immediately after his eyes shut, he found himself in a room that looked very much like the spinning room in the Ministry of Magic.

Harry spun around, his face illuminated by the blue flames on the wall. He was entirely unsure of which door to pick. Every door looked the same – dark, grey and taunting. Harry tried to gather his thoughts and concentrate on one door, but he had a throbbing headache and several voices in his head were shouting orders at him. He willed them to shut up but they only seemed to get louder. Harry was near giving up entirely when he felt a hand clamp his shoulder and he jumped from the sudden contact.

He turned his head and was relieved to see Ron grinning at him with Hermione by his side, giving Harry a supportive smile. Harry opened his mouth to ask his friends what they were doing there, but Ron cut him off.

"We're right here for you, mate," Ron assured Harry, tightening his grip of his friend's shoulder as if to emphasize his point. Harry opened his mouth again, but it was Hermione who spoke this time.

"There is no way we're letting you do this alone, Harry. It's not just your fight," she said, her brown eyes bright with determination. Harry was going to say something, but he shut his mouth and nodded instead.

"Go on. We're right behind you," Ron smiled, encouraging Harry to pick a door.

"And we always will be," Hermione added.

Now considerably reassured by his friends, Harry felt a little braver and that much more confident. After Ron gave his shoulder one final squeeze, Harry charged for the first door his eyes landed on once the room stopped spinning. The door opened easily for him but the moment he stepped inside the new room, the door slammed shut behind him with a loud bang. Harry was a little worried by the sound, so he turned around to check on the state of his friends. His heart sunk when he discovered that they were no longer behind him like they'd promised they'd be. He called their names but the only answer he got was his own echo.

"Fuck," Harry cursed under his breath, wanting more than ever to turn back around if only to find his friends again. When he tried to open the door to go back however, the doorknob was hot to the touch and Harry immediately pulled his hand away, shaking it and cursing.

Sighing, Harry turned back around and figured that he had nowhere else to go except for further into the room. Before him was a long, dark hallway with big, empty bookshelves on both sides that were as tall as the ceiling. Harry lit the tip of his wand and started walking down the hallway. In what felt like ten minutes but was really no time at all, Harry came to the end of the hallway which was a large, circular room, not unlike the spinning room he'd been in before. It was like the rest of the hallway with the huge, empty bookcases lined around the room on the walls, but there was a single spotlight hanging from the ceiling that illuminated only the very center of the room.

Harry paused when he saw what was in the center of the room, under the single spotlight. "Professor?" he called out cautiously, taking a small step forward.

His only answers were many incoherent murmurs from Professor Trelawney, who was seemingly strapped down to a throne-like chair in the middle of the room. There were no visible physical restraints, but Trelawney was writhing and struggling against the chair as if she couldn't get off of it. She kept moving her head to look around, her normally wide, bespectacled eyes even wider and with a far-away look in them that could rival Luna Lovegood's.

Harry stepped closer to the spotlight and Professor Trelawney's head snapped up and her eyes met his. Harry felt almost paralyzed by her gaze, but then she looked away and started mumbling again, a little louder and clearer this time.

"The prophecy…false prophecy? False…dead, dead, dead! The Boy Who Died… You're dead to him, Potter… You're going to be dead to him, Harry… You're going to die, Harry Potter. You're going to die Harry Potter. Harry!" Professor Trelawney cried in her usual ominous voice, looking at Harry again. "I've seen it! I've seen the Grim, Harry Potter, and I've seen the Grim die! The veil… You're going to die, Harry Potter! You're going to die! You're-"

Suddenly, Trelawney was incredibly still and Harry felt paralyzed again until she looked away from him. A moment of silence later, Professor Trelawney resumed her incoherent mumbling and writhing. Harry was about to step forward to help his professor when Lucius Malfoy stepped out of the darkness and into the spotlight, resting his hand on the back of the throne.

"Potter," he smirked, looking at Harry's stiff form bemusedly. "Did you think I'd really let you get away with the _real_ prophecy? I would never let a brat like you get in the way of the Dark Lord! Now Sibyll here has been so kind as to reveal the true prophecy to the Dark Lord and his faithful servants. I thought I'd be nice and come here to tell you a bit about your true destiny. You, Harry Potter, will inevitably fail!" Lucius let out a cold, barking laugh and Harry tensed up.

He didn't believe a word Malfoy was saying, but Professor Trelawney looked like she was in trouble. Harry had many questions for the senior Malfoy; he wanted to ask him what he was doing with the Hogwarts professor and what all this talk about a "true" prophecy was about, but Harry couldn't get his lips to move, nor could he get his thoughts so organized. Instead, he tried to step closer to Professor Trelawney, but a shield popped up between them and stopped him in his tracks.

"I don't think so," Lucius said, flicking his wand. Harry gritted his teeth and tried to approach his professor again, but was tossed back and onto the floor this time. "Potter, Sibyll has a little message for you, don't you, Sibyll?"

Lucius flicked his wand again and Trelawney's eyes fell on Harry once more. In a strange, prophetic voice, she began reciting the prophecy that Harry didn't want to hear, over and over. "_The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches! Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies! And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not! And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives! The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_"

Harry's headache started to throb again but it was harder than the last time and he winced as Lucius started laughing again. The voices in his head started shrieking again and everything in the room started swirling around. There was too much going on and Harry felt like his head was going to burst open. Suddenly everything came to a stop and Harry found himself on his knees in the center of the spinning room.

It was silent for once except for Harry's heavy, quick breathing and he took a second to recuperate before he got up from the floor. He looked around the room, searching for any sign of where Ron and Hermione had been, but he saw none. He couldn't remember the spell Hermione had used to mark what doors they'd been through and he didn't even know which door he had been through, so it didn't really matter. Sighing, Harry wished that he'd had the team of friends who'd gone into the Ministry with him last time with him now; he was sure that things would be going a lot smoother with them here.

Strangely enough, Harry wasn't sure why he was even at the Ministry. All his business there was over and done with. Before he could think too deeply on it, the room started spinning and everything was a blur of blue until it stopped. Harry chose the first door he saw again and hoped that it wasn't the room he'd been in last time.

Harry let out a short breath of relief when he saw it wasn't. The room he was in now was square and dimly lit. The walls were stone and overall, the room looked like a creepy dungeon. There wasn't anything particularly creepy about it though, considering the room was entirely empty. Harry was about to turn back around and go out the door when he heard an unnervingly familiar high-pitched, maniacal laugh.

He turned back around instantly and felt like he had taken a punch to the stomach when he saw his godfather being held up by the throat by Bellatrix Lestrange. Harry tried to run towards Sirius, but it felt as if the soles of his feet had been cemented into the floor. He wanted to cry out in outrage, but his voice box wasn't working. He wanted to do _something_ – prevent Sirius' death from happening all over again – but there was nothing he _could_ do. Harry felt helpless and after a few more minutes of struggling, he gave up with a loud sob.

Neither Bellatrix nor Sirius seemed to notice him though. Bellatrix had a smug sneer on her face. She had her wand pointed at Sirius' head as she held him up by his throat and Sirius was giving Bellatrix the nastiest glare he could. It looked like he was growling as well and Harry knew that if given the chance, Sirius would have turned the tables on the Death Eater.

"Oh cousin," Bellatrix laughed, shaking her head, "whatever will I do with you now? I could kill you… It'd be over before you knew what you hit you – literally." Bellatrix paused to cackle again and Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. "But where's the fun in that? I want to make you suffer! Blood-traitors like you need to _pay_!"

"Shut up and just kill me already, will you? Death's got to be better than your stupid chattering!" Sirius barked at her, his voice strained from the lack of oxygen he was getting. Bellatrix was shocked silent for a second, but then she tossed her head back and laughed again.

"You're just asking for it, aren't you? Well, why should I? I want to make you scream!" Bellatrix released her grip on Sirius. He'd barely fallen onto the floor before she shouted, "_CRUCIO_!" Harry flinched when he heard Sirius scream and his body began to thrash about. Sirius' muscles seemed to clench and unclench on their own and he had no control over his body. The pain was immense; it felt like several of his bones were breaking all at once.

The spell didn't end quickly enough and Sirius was left on the floor, panting. Harry's heart really went out to his godfather. Sirius already physically looked like a shadow of the man he once was, but seeing him on the floor, pathetic and seemingly on the brink of life… Harry swallowed a lump in his throat. _If only I could move_, he thought, clenching his jaw. He wanted to help, he really did. But once again, Harry Potter proved just how useless he was to everyone he cared about.

Sirius groaned and Bellatrix laughed again, shaking her head. "Mutt," she spat. "That's right where you belong. But I don't think you've gotten the entire message, Sirius Black. I don't think you understand just how wrong you were. You turned down the Dark Lord, Sirius!" Bellatrix shrilled.

Sirius' body seemed to be convulsing again, but he was actually shaking with laughter. "You're pathetic, Bella," Sirius chuckled weakly. "That's why I didn't join you and your 'Dark Lord'. You all grovel at his feet like the pitiful slaves you are! And for what? Do you think that your supposed Lord is really going to care for you if he takes over? You'll be tossed away…the whole lot of you…"

"Quiet, you!" Bellatrix cried when she'd heard enough. "_Crucio_!" Harry could almost feel Sirius' pain as he watched his godfather go into another episode. "Don't you _dare_ speak of the Dark Lord that way! You don't deserve to say his name!" Bellatrix cast another _Crucio_ and it was all Harry could take.

"STOP IT!" he shouted, his voice returning to him. Bellatrix looked up in surprise, her features twisting into another evil sneer when she spotted Harry. The curse was cut short and Sirius lay still, face down on the floor. Harry hoped that he hadn't intervened too late.

"Ah, Potter," Bellatrix grinned, obviously eager for another challenger. "How nice of you to drop by. And just in time to see your dear godfather die. Again." Bellatrix let out a hearty laugh and Harry moved to stop her, but just like with Professor Trelawney and Lucius, a shield appeared before Harry and he couldn't get past it. He cursed loudly and pounded on the wall of the shield, but it was all in vain. Bellatrix had hardly noticed Harry's struggle and was making her way towards Sirius. She grabbed him by the throat and held him up so that they were in the same position they had begun in.

"Goodbye, Sirius," Bellatrix purred, an evil smile on her lips. She held her wand up to Sirius' head and Harry could sense the Killing Curse that was about to be cast. He turned his head away and closed his eyes, not wanting to see his godfather's lifeless body. If there was one thing about Sirius' death that Harry was grateful for, it was the fact that he didn't have to watch Sirius' life physically being taken from him. He wasn't going to see it now.

"No, Potter, you have to _watch_," Bellatrix urged into Harry's ear. She was incredibly closer to him now than she had been a second ago and Harry wondered how she was right behind him if she was killing Sirius several feet away from him. "Potter, this is something you have to see."

So Harry opened his eyes and nearly threw up from the sight in front of him. Instead of Bellatrix holding her wand to Sirius' head, it was now Harry himself. He had a hungry, maniacal gleam in his eyes and because of the twisted, evil expression, he was hardly recognizable as the Savior of the Wizarding world.

"Goodbye, Sirius," Harry laughed, tightening his grip on Sirius' throat. "_AVADA KEDAVRA_!" Feeling as if he was being ripped from his navel, the real Harry keeled over and vomited as Bellatrix' laughter rung in his ears. His head started spinning again and when Harry looked up and opened his eyes, he found himself in the spinning room again.

"WHEN IS THIS GOING TO END?" Harry called out to no one, only getting his echoes in response. He panted. He wanted out. There was nothing there for him except terrors and strange mysteries. He needed to find the exit. As soon as the room stopped spinning, Harry went through the door that stopped in front of him. While opening easily, it closed very slowly behind him, but Harry wasn't paying any attention to it. He was intent on finding the exit and getting out of the Ministry, no matter how he'd gotten into it. He would've preferred to escape with Hermione and Ron, but he seriously doubted he'd be able to find and save his friends. It would kill him to leave without them, though…

Harry found himself in a dark room in which he couldn't see anything – it was completely pitch black, but as soon as the door had fully closed, all the lights on the wall behind Harry lit up. He was standing on a seemingly endless balcony. He stepped forward and looked down over the balcony, holding on tightly to the white wooden railing. The space below the balcony was fit for a mansion; the walls were an elegant off-white color and the floor was a shining, gray marble. There were frames on the wall that looked like they were meant for portraits of important people, but they were empty. In fact, except for the frames and the torches behind Harry, there was no furniture in the large room.

Harry wondered if he was meant to jump off the balcony and into the room below, but there had to be at least forty feet between where he was standing and the ground. That was a jump Harry doubted he would survive and he certainly wasn't going to chance it. Still, he didn't see any other way to get off the balcony – or to get anywhere at all, really. Harry sighed and was about to look around for another option when he heard a loud, piercing and eerily familiar scream come from below.

He looked back down at the room and his eyes widened as his grip tightened on the balcony. In the middle of the large room, struggling against Antonin Dolohov, were Ron and Hermione. Harry's eyes widened – they certainly hadn't been there moments before. Harry didn't dwell on the thought because it looked as if Ron and Hermione were having some serious trouble with Dolohov. Hermione was facing the man and had apparently been disarmed by him for she was wandless. She had a determined look set on her face and Dolohov looked less than pleased with her. Ron was behind Dolohov, banging desperately on the barrier that prevented him from getting to the Death Eater and Hermione. He still had his wand on him, but it didn't look as though it was giving him much help. He was calling out Hermione's name and screaming every curse known to man as he slammed all his weight against the barrier. It didn't do any harm to the barrier, but unfortunately the same couldn't be said for Ron.

Dolohov was barely paying any attention to Ron's efforts to get through his barrier and looked down at Hermione with a sneer. "Now, little girl, let me ask you this _one_ _last time_. Where is Harry Potter?" Dolohov spat, obviously impatient and annoyed by Hermione's stubbornness.

"Don't tell him, Hermione!" Ron screamed, hitting the barrier again. Hermione gave him a sharp look as if chiding him for thinking she would do such a thing.

"Shut _up_, you!" Dolohov cried angrily, turning around to look at Hermione. Hermione tried to take advantage of the distraction Ron provided but before she could move, Dolohov had turned his attention back to her. "And _you_, answer me!"

"I don't know!" Hermione cried, telling the truth. "I've told you this already! When will it get through your thick skull-"

"Silence! _Crucio_!" Dolohov interrupted impatiently. Hermione fell to the floor and went into a violent fit that was similar to a horrible seizure without the foaming at the mouth. Her screams were barely discernible from Ron's, who stopped pounding against the barrier and was now throwing each and every spell he knew at it. This ended up doing more physical damage to him because his spells would bounce off the barrier and hit him instead. After three spells had hit him quite nastily, Ron stopped casting them and resigned himself to sliding down against the wall the barrier provided, breathing rather heavily.

The Cruciatus Curse ended and Hermione was left on the floor in the fetus position. Dolohov took a deep breath before he spoke again. "I'll give you one more chance, Mudblood. Now tell me where Potter is or I'll kill you!"

Hermione looked up at Dolohov with all the hate she could muster and slowly, but stubbornly, got back up on her feet. Once she was standing again, Hermione glared at Dolohov again. "I've told you. I. Don't. Know," Hermione breathed, challenging Dolohov with her eyes.

He searched her eyes to test if she was lying, but Hermione never flinched or looked away from him. Finally, Dolohov gave a frustrated cry and growled at Hermione. "Then you are of no use to me! _Vulno_!" Dolohov lashed at Hermione with his wand and her eyes widened as a long, violet slash appeared over her chest. Not a moment later, the sick sound of ripping flesh could be heard and Harry's stomach churned unpleasantly when a long line of blood squirted out from Hermione's wound with a horrible squelching sound. Some of her blood splattered on Dolohov's face, but he seemed not to care and didn't wipe at it. Both Harry and Ron, who had scrambled up onto his knees, were wide eyed and completely still as they watched a third of their Golden Trio fall to the ground with a horrified look on her face. When she fell, Hermione gave out one last groan and cough before she died, her blood beginning to pool underneath her lifeless body.

There was a drawn out moment of silence before Ron let out a strangled cry. "_NO_!" he screamed, all but jumping onto his feet and getting ready to charge through the barrier. Dolohov waved his wand again and the barrier disappeared right before Ron was about to run into it. Ron gritted his teeth as Dolohov looked smugly at the boy running towards him and before Ron got close enough to hurt him, Dolohov stopped the boy in his tracks.

"_AVADA KEDAVRA_!" The flash of green light hit Ron square in the chest and he immediately fell to the ground, his death neither as drawn out, dramatic or gory as Hermione's. Still, Harry's grip tightened even more on the railing and his eyes widened. He felt like crying. He felt exposed and defeated. He'd just watched his two best friends be killed without as much as a second thought and he couldn't have done a thing about it. As it was, he was still stuck on the balcony and he had no idea where his wand was although he was sure he'd had it before he entered the room.

Harry was about to go off and try to find an exit, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes, but a voice stopped him in his tracks. "POTTER!" Dolohov called from the room below, making Harry lick his lips nervously. He had nowhere to go – the door he'd gone through had mysteriously disappeared and there didn't seem to be an ending to the balcony he was standing on. He was finished. "You're not getting away this time, my boy! _Petrificus Totalus_!"

Harry's arms and legs snapped against his body and he went as stiff as a board before falling to the floor. It hurt his muscles intensely to struggle against the curse, but he still tried. This wasn't how it was supposed to end. Where had his reflexes gone? Harry tried to move again, but stopped suddenly when an incredible chill overcame him. He'd recognize that depressing iciness anywhere.

_Dementors_, Harry thought despairingly. He didn't have his wand to defend himself and he couldn't even move. Harry was sure that there were better ways to die than to have your soul sucked out of you, but at this point, it didn't look like he'd have a choice. Then, as if things couldn't get any worse, Harry heard the raspy voice of his arch-nemesis before he saw him.

"Harry, Harry, Harry," Voldemort chided, shaking his hooded head as he glided towards Harry. Harry hissed as his scar began to burn fiercely, causing him to wince and narrow his eyes in pain. He could barely make out Voldemort's shape before him, but the sorcerer's voice rang clear through his head. "Harry, Harry, Harry…" It seemed that the more Voldemort said it, the worse his scar would hurt and finally, Harry was reduced to tossing and turning on the ground before him, a feeling of complete helplessness overwhelming him.

He had failed.

"Harry… Harry… Harry…"

"HARRY! HARRY! Wake _up_, mate! Harry!" Suddenly it was no longer Voldemort's raspy voice in his throbbing head, but Ron's. _That's not possible,_ Harry thought weakly, still thrashing about. _Ron's dead. And it's all my fault. None of this would have happened if it wasn't for me…_

"Harry!" Harry tried opening his eyes, but everything started swirling around him again and his headache hurt so much he was sure he was bleeding.

"No…" he protested weakly, his voice sounding rough and scratchy. "No… Everyone I care about is dead. I'm probably dead…"

"Harry, what are you talking about? You're right here! We're all right here!" Ron called to him, shaking Harry desperately. Harry tried to open his eyes again and succeeded, pleasantly surprised to find himself in his bed at Hogwarts rather than the spinning room in the Ministry of Magic. His sight was unfocused, but he could make out a blurry image in front of him that looked like Ron Weasley.

"Ron?" Harry called out, furrowing his brow. Were they in some kind of afterlife or alternate universe? Surely they were both dead now, so…

"Yeah. Yeah, it's me, Harry," Ron smiled, glad that his friend was safely awake and no longer thrashing about. "Here." Ron shoved Harry's glasses into the boy's chest and Harry put them on. Everything became much clearer and Harry was now sure that Ron was standing in front of him and they were definitely in the sixth year Gryffindor boys' dorm. Harry wasn't sure how they'd gotten there or why they were there, nor was he sure why everyone else in their year was crowding around his bed now, looking quite worried.

Ron put a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder and Harry immediately shook it off, giving Ron a suspicious glare. Ron was taken aback and looked at Harry in confusion. "You're not Ron," Harry said, glaring at Ron and the rest of the room. "I just saw you die," Harry continued, focusing back on Ron. "So unless this is some twisted Wizard afterlife, you're not Ron. If this _is_ the afterlife, then what the hell are the rest of you doing here?"

Ron furrowed his brow and looked about the room, questioning the other boys on what to do silently. None of them were any help and just shrugged back at him. Ron bit down on his lip before turning back to Harry. "Um, Harry…we're all alive. You were – you were having a bad dream," Ron explained and several boys behind him nodded. "You were screaming bloody murder and rolling around in your bed and I thought…I thought you were getting another vision. You kept shouting stuff about Sirius and Hermione and me."

"You, you were killed by Dolohov," Harry stammered, looking at Ron. "I watched it. He…he killed Hermione first and then he killed you. I saw it."

"Harry…no one's dead," Ron said carefully, but Harry shook his head fervently. "Look! I can touch you! We're not ghosts and we're not dead!"

"Where's Hermione, then? I watched her die! Where is she?" Harry shouted, partially afraid that his dream was real but even more afraid that it had actually just been a dream. Ron gave the room a worried glance and motioned towards the door. After a moment's hesitation, Neville rushed out of the room and went to find someone to get Hermione.

"Harry, you were probably just having one of your visions-" Ron started to whisper.

"No!" Harry interrupted, cutting him off sharply. Ron flinched at Harry's words. "I _saw_ it, Ron. Professor Trelawney… Sirius… Ron, _I_ killed Sirius."

"What?" Ron cried. He was about to continue but Neville and a rather flustered looking Hermione burst into the boys' dorms. Hermione immediately looked at Harry and then cast a worried glance in Ron's direction.

"Hermione?" Harry called, his voice strained. Hermione sighed and shook her head.

"Harry… What happened?" she asked as she walked past Neville and some of the other boys to get to Harry's bedside, where she stood by Ron.

"I… You're dead," Harry said, trying to explain what he'd seen. "Dolohov…he killed you with this curse. You were bleeding."

"Harry, I'm not dead," Hermione said slowly as if she were speaking to a small child. "Neither is Ron. Nobody here is dead. Not you, not anyone."

Harry opened his mouth to protest, but then he saw the looks everyone in the dorm was giving him. Some were looking at him like he was a madman, some were worried and some were just plain confused. Harry sighed and subconsciously rubbed at his scar, which Hermione immediately noticed. She drew her lips into a tight line but didn't say anything at first. Harry looked around the room once more until his eyes landed on Ron and Hermione again. "So…you're alive?"

"Yes, Harry, we're alive," Hermione answered calmly.

"And I just had a really bad dream?" Harry asked, shutting his eyes tightly and wishing that the moment he was living right now was part of the dream. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment; he'd woken up the entire dorm and had disturbed Hermione as well. He didn't even know what time it was. Hermione nodded, answering his question. "Wow. You all must think I'm a madman."

Hermione gave Harry a warm smile and bent over his bed to hug him tightly. "No we don't, Harry. We were just worried about you."

"Yeah, mate, you should've seen yourself," Ron smiled lopsidedly. "The way you were shouting and rolling-" Hermione cut Ron off with a sharp, pointed look and Ron swallowed his words, backing away from Hermione and Harry a little. This didn't go unnoticed by Harry, who spared Hermione a weak smile.

"I, ah… I'm sorry then?" Harry offered to the entire room. The other boys murmured that he didn't need to apologize or that it was fine before they all went back to their beds to get ready for the day ahead of them. Harry ran his hand through his hair before he looked back at his friends. "I'm really sorry, you guys. Especially to you, Hermione. I mean, I-"

"It's fine, Harry. You had a valid reason to want me here. Besides, it doesn't hurt to be up an hour early," Hermione interrupted, stifling a yawn. Harry smiled gratefully at her although he still felt a little guilty about disturbing everyone's sleep.

"Speak for yourself," Ron snorted. "I was up at least an hour and forty five minutes early! You're a deep sleeper!" Hermione unsubtly nudged Ron in the side with her elbow and he yelped in response. Harry only grinned weakly at his friends before falling back down on his bed and closing his eyes. He felt so tired.

"Harry," Hermione called to him, making him open his eyes, "I know you're tired, but we need to talk." Harry groaned inwardly and propped himself up on his elbows.

"Er, could we do that later, Hermione? I'm not sure any of the guys here would appreciate having to change in front of you," Ron said, making Hermione blush as she became fully aware that she was in the boys' dorm. A quick look around the room made it obvious that the boys (well, most of them) were also aware of Hermione's presence and had restrained from taking off any articles of clothing.

"Well, um, yes… I suppose we'll just talk at breakfast," Hermione said, clearing her throat and keeping her eyes on Ron and Harry. "But don't think I'll forget. Well, talk to you two later." She quickly left, but not after accidentally bumping into a shirtless Seamus Finnigan which only made her blush harder. Harry and Ron watched amusedly as Hermione left, but when she was gone, Ron gave Harry another serious look.

"You okay, Harry?" Ron asked him, raising an eyebrow a little. Harry nodded as he sat up again.

"Yeah, Ron, I'm fine. I didn't mean to scare everyone like that," Harry murmured, looking at his sheets. Ron nodded but didn't say anything and a moment of silence passed. Finally, Ron cleared his throat, causing Harry to look up at the redhead.

"Uh, that's the worst it's been in a while, right?" Ron asked, his gaze not meeting Harry's eyes, but resting on the boy's scar instead.

Harry sighed. "I think that's the worst it's ever been."

* * *

Aaaand…that's it! For the first chapter, at least. Thanks for reading! I've got a few little notes:

- _Vulno_ is from the verb vulno, vulnare in Latin which translates _to wound_. I imagine it to be a great slashing motion and depending on the feeling and power the spell caster puts into it, it can do little harm or be fatal.

- Just in case some people don't remember, the boys in Gryffindor can't get into the girls' dorms because of the whole changing staircase thing, but the girls _can_ get into the boys' dorms, which is why Hermione was able to get into the dorm.

I think that's about it. Thanks again for reading!


	2. Sleep

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter. In fact, a lovely woman by the name of J.K. Rowling owns it all. Isn't she lucky?

**A/N:** I just realized that it might be a few chapters before Draco comes in. Maybe one more if I can speed this along well, but he'll probably be in chapter four or five. Aiiee, I'm sorry! Trust me, I want him in this story as soon as possible! Also, note that this story will not be updated regularly like _at all_. I'm horrible with schedules like that, but I'll try to get in a chapter as soon as I can!

* * *

**And a Lullaby**

Chapter Two: Sleep

The hour before breakfast didn't pass very pleasantly for Harry. It seemed as if every five minutes, someone was approaching him, asking if he was okay. Usually it was someone in his year, but word had spread throughout Gryffindor pretty quickly and sometimes the younger and older years would come up to Harry with their concerns about his health as well. Harry made sure to try his best to steer clear of Hermione until it was time for them to have their talk; he didn't want to hear about how dangerous it was to have these false images in his head. He knew already that she thought the nightmare came from Voldemort, but Harry wasn't so sure.

Sure, the nightmare made his scar hurt and it felt just like those visions from Voldemort, but this one was slightly different. None of the events that occurred in his dream had been real and Voldemort had only tried that trick once before. Why Voldemort would bother making Harry believed that Professor Trelawney was dead or that he'd killed Sirius or that his best friends were dead didn't make sense to Harry. Still, he knew Hermione wouldn't see it his way.

Harry was also trying to shake off Ron until they had their talk because the redhead kept giving him wary, worried glances – something that was usually Hermione's job. Harry just rolled his eyes and suffered through it until breakfast, knowing that his friends were only worried about him, but he didn't like being treated like a china doll.

Despite how long the hour seemed to drag on, it was time to head down to the Great Hall before Harry even realized. He got up from the armchair he was sitting in with a yawn; despite how long he'd been asleep, his nightmares didn't give him any rest and he was both physically and mentally exhausted. Harry wondered how he'd stay awake in History of Magic, but he figured he could get away with a nap in that class. It was Transfiguration after that that Harry was worried about.

Harry wiped at his face as he took his seat in between Ron and Hermione at the Gryffindor table. Ginny and Neville sat across from them and the first thing Harry noticed when he looked up was that Ginny was giving him a concerned look and raising her eyebrows. Harry nodded and mouthed, "I'm fine," to her, not surprised that she'd heard the news as well. He wished that someone didn't know though, because he was sure that people would be treating him like he was going to crack at the slightest movement all day.

That was definitely something he didn't want.

Harry loaded his plate and poured a little pumpkin juice for himself, glad that his appetite had not been affected by his weird sleeping habits. The energy he got from his food was the only energy Harry ever seemed to get these days and he needed every last bit of it. He chewed his eggs slowly, staring into space, and didn't notice the pointed glare Hermione was giving him.

She finally straightened up in her seat and cleared her throat, causing Harry to turn and look at her. "Harry, when I said we needed to talk, I meant it."

"Hermione, I already know what you're going to say, so I don't see what the point is-" Harry started, swallowing his food before he spoke. Hermione narrowed her eyes at him and pursed her lips before she cut him off.

"This time is different. We're honestly worried about you, Harry. You woke up thinking everyone was _dead_. Imagine if you ended up doing something drastic like…like last year," Hermione sighed, her throat tightening as she mentioned the touchy subject. She knew it wasn't something Harry liked to think or talk about, but she felt it was necessary. He needed to know how scary and worrying his dream had been.

"That's not going to happen again, Hermione," Harry snapped, hurt that she had brought up his vision from last year. "I'm a lot more careful now."

"Yeah, but it's possible," Ron spoke up, licking his lips. "Hermione's just saying that we shouldn't let that be able to happen, you know?"

"Ron's right, Harry. You aren't in full control of your thoughts or your mind and sometimes, not even your body. Anything could happen to you at any time. I know you've been getting visions in the daytime too, so don't tell me this is just a nighttime thing. You've been trying to make it look like a smaller deal than it really is, but this is not a game anymore Harry! This is your life and this is dangerous! What if V-v…You-Know-Who possessed your body and made you hurt somebody – or worse, _yourself_?" Hermione asked, raising an eyebrow. Harry clenched his jaw and looked down at his plate, feeling a little betrayed by his friends.

The logical part of his brain told him that they were just looking out for his health and best interests, but his more irrational side told him that they were just scared of him and looking out for themselves. Harry tried to tell himself that this definitely wasn't true, but he couldn't stop the nagging voice in the back of his subconscious.

"Hermione, I told you, that's not going to happen!" Harry exclaimed, drawing the attention of several nearby Gryffindors. A pained expression flitted over Hermione's face and she shook her head.

"But how do you _know_ that for sure, Harry?" Hermione asked him but Harry didn't reply. "You don't. That's the point. Harry, we're just trying to help you here."

_I don't need your help,_ Harry thought bitterly, looking up at Hermione again. "I know," he said simply before sighing and going back to his plate. Hermione gave Ron a stern but worried look over Harry's head and a moment of silence passed.

"Personally, I think you should go see Professor Dumbledore about this-" Harry interrupted Hermione by accidentally choking on the pumpkin juice he was drinking. Hermione rolled her eyes as she sighed and patted Harry's back as he started coughing and refilled his goblet.

"Are you out of your mind?" Harry cried after he'd regained composure. Hermione gave him a disapproving look and shook her head, looking at Ron for help. The redhead just shrugged and stayed silent though, making Hermione sigh again.

"It's the only logical choice, no?" Hermione asked the two, but neither responded. "Well, _I_ thought as much."

"Hermione, that's the worst thing I could do," Harry said, massaging the bridge of his nose. "Dumbledore would be sure to tell the Order about my visions and then you'd all be concerned about me and fretting and worried about my 'connection' with Voldemort. That's the last thing I want!"

"At least you'd get help then," Hermione retorted impatiently. "Honestly Harry, do you not know how to take care of yourself? You're having nightmares that could end up being a risk to your health and you're worried about people being _concerned_ about you? If I were you, I'd be worried if people _weren't_ concerned about me!" Hermione gave Harry a look that could compete with the sternest look Professor McGonagall had ever given anybody. "Now stop worrying about what other people are thinking and worry about yourself! You're in a right state, Harry!"

"Uh…she's right," Ron coughed, looking away from Harry when the dark haired boy turned to face him. "I mean, I know you hate being the center of attention and all, but after what happened with…with… Well, after _that_, I really think you should get help from Dumbledore. I'm sure he'll know what to do."

"Do you two hear yourselves?" Harry asked, looking up at his friends with a truly perplexed look on his face.

"Do you hear _yourself_, Harry?" Ginny interjected, no longer staying silent. The trio looked up at the fifth year who didn't falter on her words or blush in the slightest under their looks. She had been listening to their conversation – it wasn't very hard to overhear as they hadn't been talking quietly – and she thought Harry was being utterly ridiculous for refusing help. "When are you going to stop? When someone else dies?"

Harry's eyes flashed with anger and he opened his mouth to argue with Ginny, but then he realized that she was completely right. It was just like he'd been telling himself all along. He had been responsible for Sirius' death and the injuries of his friends from that night at the Ministry and here he was, with a chance to prevent something like that from happening again and he was right out refusing it. Harry sunk a little in his seat and was about to admit that Ginny was right until Hermione spoke up again.

"…That was a rather harsh way of saying it," Hermione started, giving Ginny a wary look, "but Ginny's right, Harry." Hermione gave Harry a small smile. "So, you should definitely talk to Professor Dumbledore about this – he might be able to stop you from having the daydreams and nightmares and maybe you can stop the connection you have with V-v…You-Know-Who if you take those Occlumency lessons with Snape-"

Harry had agreed with everything Hermione had been saying right up to that point. "I am _not_ taking any lessons with that slimy git ever again!" Harry called out shrilly, causing Hermione to wince and a few Hufflepuffs to look over at the small commotion at the Gryffindor table. "I doubt he wants anything to do with me anyway," Harry continued, much calmer and his voice a lot lower now.

Ginny blinked at him. "You'll never know until you try, Harry."

"You guys didn't have those lessons with me. They…they were almost worse than detentions with Umbridge," Harry admitted, shivering. "He was invading my mind. My own personal space."

"What do you think V-voldemort is doing to you now?" Hermione whispered fiercely, her eyes ablaze. She had tried to stay patient and be understanding with Harry up until this point. If the boy wasn't going to look out for himself, she'd have to do the job for him. "Voldemort's not going to go easy on you, Harry. Professor Snape did. He was trying to teach you Occlumency, not exhibit his Legilimency skills and infiltrate your mind! He wasn't trying to hurt you." Harry gave Hermione a look and she rolled her eyes at him. "Harry, you barely even _tried_. Mastering Occlumency could be the key to almost completely severing this connection you have with V-v…You-Know-Who! Then you won't have to worry about him getting into your head and putting these stupid images in there! You'll have it covered!"

Harry frowned, knowing that it made complete logical sense for him to approach Professors Dumbledore and Snape about his problems and that doing so would probably benefit him later on. Still, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Maybe it was his pride or just the thought of what he would have to go through (especially concerning taking up Occlumency lessons again), but Harry couldn't do it anymore. He didn't care what it meant for him.

"I can't," Harry said, sighing. He bowed his head, but he could still feel his friends' eyes on him. Finally, Hermione looked away from him and sighed resignedly. She wasn't going to push the matter any farther than she could right now. Harry clearly needed help, but they wouldn't be able to help him until he learned how to help himself.

"Fine, Harry," Hermione said. "Don't go to Professor Dumbledore or Professor Snape. Don't tell any responsible, able-bodied adult about your problems. Don't get help." Harry looked up at Hermione and glared at her for her accusing tone, but Hermione just narrowed her eyes right back at him. "It's not my problem if you're not listening to me. It's not going to be on my shoulders," she sniffed, lifting her chin. "But if you have _any_ problems, Harry Potter – any problems at all – _I_ don't want to hear about them. You know who does? Professor Dumbledore. You just remember that."

"Jeez, okay, Hermione!"

"You'll talk to him then?"

"No!" Harry refused, shaking his head. Hermione growled a little and shook her head at Harry's stubbornness. "But the next time something like this happens to me, I'll be sure _not_ to tell you," Harry shot at Hermione, making her eyes widen. Harry moved to get out of his seat, but Hermione grabbed his elbow and prevented him from leaving. "What?"

"Harry, you know I didn't mean that! If anything else happens to you, you better tell me! And not three days after it happened or when you end up getting hurt or something. I want to know when it happens, Harry Potter, do you understand?" Hermione pressed, tightening her grip on Harry's elbow. Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione's grip, but when he heard the urgency in her voice and saw the worry in her eyes, he relented and nodded. Hermione let out a breath of relief and let Harry go. "Harry, I still think you should talk to someone-"

Harry didn't hear the rest of what Hermione was saying because he left the Great Hall before she could finish her sentence. Hermione shut her mouth and drew her lips into a tight line as she watched Harry leave the Great Hall, barely even half of his meal finished.

"He's going to do himself in, that one," Ron commented quietly after the doors to the Great Hall shut behind Harry. Hermione sighed and slumped her shoulders and Ginny shook her head. "At least we tried?" Ron suggested, shrugging one of his shoulders. Hermione gave him a warm although forced smile.

"Yes, we did try. Now Harry has to."

**~*~**

History of Magic wasn't so bad. Harry got a good nap, although it wasn't a dreamless one. Still, what Harry had dreamt of was harmless and most unlike the violent nightmares he was used to. He was grateful for that, but even his nap (which was much more refreshing than listening to Professor Binns' lectures) didn't do much to rejuvenate him. It didn't help that Hermione had glared at Harry's sleeping form when she paused in her note-taking.

She hadn't even shaken Harry awake when class ended and had chosen to gather her books and walk out of class with a high head instead. It had been Ron, while passing the sleeping boy, who woke Harry up with a light slap on his back. Harry woke with a start, his glasses slightly askew and he sighed as he realized his surroundings. He gave Ron a sleepy, grateful smile as he adjusted his glasses.

"Thanks, Ron," he said, standing and stretching and gathering his things. Ron nodded and followed Hermione out of the classroom, with Harry scrambling out of his seat to catch up with them. Hermione gave Harry a disdainful look as he fell into step with them.

"That was a _lovely_ lecture by Professor Binns, don't you think, Ron?" Hermione asked innocently, giving Ron an overly pleasant smile. The redhead opened his mouth but barely began sputtering out a response before Hermione continued; Ron sighed with relief, glad that he didn't have to answer the question. "It's really such a shame that Harry didn't get to enjoy it with us."

"Hermione," Harry started tiredly, trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes, "I needed that."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Harry, thinking of telling him that there was something else that Harry needed, but she scoffed instead and sped up her pace until she was a good few feet in front of the boys. Harry gave Ron a look, but the redhead just shrugged.

"S'not your fault that Binns' voice is like a bloody lullaby," Ron muttered, shaking his head. Harry chuckled a little. "It was putting me to sleep and I'm not half as knackered as you, mate." Harry nodded and decided to make his best efforts to stay awake in all his other classes.

His resolve didn't last very long though. While managing to keep his eyes open (for the most part) through the rest of his classes, Harry suffered from all the effects of fatigue. When trying out spells in Transfiguration, he kept murmuring the incantation and horribly failed to turn a family of white mice into a china set. In Potions, his droopy eyes caused him to sometimes misread instructions and he utterly failed to make the Spes Potion – which wasn't all that complicated – and ended up costing Gryffindor more than 50 points by the end of the class. By the time his free period had rolled around, Harry had been more exhausted than ever and instead of spending his time catching up on what he'd failed to pay attention to that day, Harry took what was, in his mind, a well deserved nap – much to Hermione's disapproval.

Thankfully, he didn't have many classes that day and it was dinnertime before he'd even noticed. Harry was almost too tired to eat and he wasn't even that hungry to begin with; he'd had thoughts of skipping dinner altogether for an early bedtime, but he knew that would only worry his friends more. So he found himself in the noisy Great Hall, sitting between Ron and Hermione again. Despite all the noise from the students, Harry's corner of the Gryffindor table was quieter than most. Harry tried his best to keep up appearances by smiling and trying to engage himself in some conversations every once in a while, but for the most part, he kept to himself and kept his head bowed as he played around with his food.

Hermione had been watching him with a careful eye and could see right through Harry. As dinner dragged on, Harry's appetite didn't get any bigger and he got the feeling that Hermione was trying to find the right moment to patronize him about something. He wasn't in the mood to hear another lecture about taking better care of himself and how everyone's lives rested on his shoulders or how he couldn't let Voldemort get to him like this, so before Hermione could open her mouth, Harry told his friends that he was done for the night and got up from the table before anyone could stop him. As he left the Great Hall to head back to Gryffindor Tower, Harry barely noticed that several pairs of eyes followed him out.

By the time the rest of the sixth year Gryffindor boys were getting ready for bed, Harry had already been asleep for hours. His curtains were drawn around his bed, so none of the boys saw how restless and fitful Harry looked in his sleep with his brows furrowed and little beads of sweat gathering around his hairline. He tossed and turned for most of the night and woke up from another nightmare around four in the morning. This nightmare wasn't as vivid as the last one, but it was still enough to give Harry a bit of a scare.

Thankfully, none of the Gryffindors mentioned the nightmare incident after it happened and it seemed that people would forget about it with time and just place it under all the other episodes Harry had ever had. Unfortunately, that didn't mean that the nightmares got any better for Harry. Although none were worse than the Nightmare, some were as bad or just relatively better. Eventually Harry began to dread the nighttime even more and he became incredibly reluctant to fall asleep. It wasn't as if he was getting much rest with the nightmares, so he assumed that he'd be better off just not going to sleep; that way, he wouldn't have to suffer through the nightmares. The daydreams were a lot milder than the nightmares and Harry could deal with them well enough as long as they didn't distract him too much.

As the days passed, Harry's body started to react more to his reluctance to fall asleep. At first, he found it difficult to stay awake. As soon as he got snuggled into his bed, his eyes would close and he would start to feel himself drifting away. But as time went on, Harry's stamina grew and he could easily prevent himself from falling asleep for another half-hour, or forty-five minutes. He was proud of this and even though it didn't do much for his energy levels, he continued trying to stay awake for longer. He concentrated on staying awake and thought about his life, his past, his present and his uncertain future.

Eventually, Harry could stay up for the entire night if he wanted to and sometimes he did. Unfortunately, this became a bad habit and it got out of control. Because his body was so used to him refusing sleep, it became impossible for him to fall asleep for the long periods of time he used to be able to sleep for. In fact, his body was so unwilling to let Harry go to sleep, that it seemed no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't stay asleep for more than an hour a night.

Harry had developed a severe case of insomnia.

**~*~**

November ended on a sour note for Harry, whose insomnia was really beginning to take a toll on him. His daytime visions began to blur with reality and it was increasingly unhealthy. He tried his best to make his situation look perfectly fine to his friends, but they saw right through his act. Harry was suffering more now than ever and he didn't want to accept help from anybody, so there was hardly anything his friends could do to help.

Hermione wasn't one to give up on her friends' problems however, and she was not going to let Harry destroy himself – especially not when he was so important to her and the Wizarding world. She could barely stand to see him in the state he was in. He had dark bags under his eyes and his usually vibrantly green eyes seemed to always be half-lidded and dull. He hardly smiled anymore and Hermione was worried that if he didn't get an intervention soon, it would be too late.

Ron had been the one to tell Hermione about Harry's insomnia. At first, Ron hadn't noticed the lack of sleep Harry was getting, but he started noticing Harry's blank stares and short answers and his lack of energy, especially during Quidditch practice. The team was worried about their captain and Ron was worried about his best friend. He began noticing how Harry wasn't exactly asleep when the rest of the sixth year Gryffindor boys were going to sleep and when he unsubtly asked Harry about it later, Harry just shrugged it off and said that he'd had trouble going to sleep that night. Ron wasn't that thick and he could see that Harry was trying to sugarcoat things as usual.

This new, almost lifeless Harry didn't escape his professors' notice either. He had been berated in Potions several times about staying awake and paying closer attention and Professors Flitwick and McGonagall had told Harry that he should see to getting more sleep or there might be some consequences. It wasn't lack of trying on Harry's part; he simply could not get much sleep anymore.

Hermione asked Harry about his visions at breakfast one day and Harry mentioned that they hadn't been as frequent lately. Hermione then asked him that if his visions hadn't been coming so frequently, what had been preventing him from getting the sleep he needed and Harry went suspiciously tight-lipped at the question. This only drove Hermione to find a solution even faster. She couldn't believe that Harry still refused to get help from Dumbledore at this point and she took the situation into her own hands.

It was at dinner in the middle of December – a few days before their holiday break – that Hermione revealed her plan to "cure" Harry. Harry sat in his usual seat between Ron and Hermione. Hermione had filled her plate up, but was hardly eating anything, choosing instead to stare curiously at Harry. Harry barely noticed. Ron had already begun stuffing his face and Harry was about to dig into the small portion of mashed potatoes he'd loaded onto his plate, but Hermione spoke up, an almost maternal expression on her face.

"Harry, I know you don't want to hear this, but I really think you should seek professional help about your visions," Hermione told him in a low voice, causing Harry to groan and drop his fork back on his plate.

"Hermione, I already told you that-"

"You're not going to talk to Professor Dumbledore about it, I know," Hermione scoffed, giving Harry a look. "But I've been thinking – no, listen to me! – I've been thinking about your insomnia," Harry's eyes widened at this; he didn't know that his friends knew about his sleeping issues, "and I think I've come up with a way to help you." When Hermione finished, both Ron and Harry were looking at her expectantly. "I'm not sure it'll work, but…it's worth a try, at least." Hermione paused again, looking up to see Harry and Ron's smiling faces; they thought they had finally found the answer to one of their problems.

"So what is it?" Ron asked after Hermione had paused for a moment too long. She flashed him a smile and cleared her throat.

"See, the thing is… Harry, you're going to have to ask Madame Pomfrey for it," Hermione admitted, a little worried about what Harry's response would be. It was no less than she'd expected; he all but shouted his response.

"What?" Harry exclaimed, causing Hermione to wince a little. "Hermione, I told you, I'm not talking to _anyone_ about this!"

"I know, Harry, I _know_. That's why this is fine. All you have to do is ask Madame Pomfrey for what you need; she doesn't ask specific questions. She might get suspicious, but the most you'll have to tell her is that you can't get to sleep or something like that," Hermione explained, calming Harry down considerably. "She won't ask for details, I promise."

Harry looked at Hermione calculatingly for a moment. He was a little unsure about this, but he knew that any plan Hermione came up with was only going to help him. He didn't want to get involved with Hogwarts' resident nurse, but he'd known that he was going to have to get help from somebody at some point. Harry decided he had nothing to lose at this point and resignedly sighed.

"So what do I need, exactly?"

"A Sleeping Draught, of course," Hermione smiled. Harry had the sudden urge to both smack himself on the forehead and to give Hermione a great hug. He refrained from doing either and beamed gratefully at Hermione instead.

"Hermione, you're bloody brilliant," Ron commented, something akin to awe in his eyes. Hermione blushed a little, but tried her best to conceal her proud smile. "Harry, why didn't we think of that?" Harry could only shrug in response; he never had an answer for why Hermione always seemed to have more book smarts _and_ common sense than them.

"I just thought that since you can't go to sleep, some magical help to do that would be perfect to fix the problem," Hermione said, unable to contain her smile now. "You should probably go see Madame Pomfrey after dinner."

Harry nodded in agreement. "I will," he promised. "What would I do without you, Hermione?"

"You and I both, mate," Ron grinned, causing Hermione to blush again. Harry rolled his eyes at his friends, but continued eating with his spirits lifted considerably. Maybe they could cure him after all.

* * *

Thanks for reading! :] I only have one note today, I think:

- The Spes Potion, or the Draught of Hope, is like a Pepper-Up Potion but it allows the person taking it to have a more optimistic view on things. One dose is good for twelve hours. It comes from spes, spei, which is Latin for hope.


	3. Aide

**Disclaimer:** Well, J.K. Rowling and I get confused with each other just _so_ often that I can understand why you would think so, but no, I do not own Harry Potter.

**A/N:** I had a little trouble writing this chapter (at least, at the beginning), so sorry if it's not quite up to par with the two before it.

* * *

**And a Lullaby**

Chapter Three: Aide

The end of dinner wasn't so terrible that night because for the first time since October, Harry hadn't been dreading bedtime. He wasn't exactly looking forward to it, but he was anxious about going to see Madame Pomfrey and he was excited to find out whether or not he could get the potion and whether or not it would work. He was ready to leave for the Hospital Wing straight after dinner, but Hermione and Ron kept him waiting outside the Great Hall. As the rest of the Hogwarts student body passed the Trio on their way back to their dorms, Ron and Hermione bickered.

Harry leant against the wall near the doors to the Great Hall as Hermione and Ron argued in front of him. Ron had started the argument; he'd told Hermione to go back to Gryffindor Tower, insisting that he had everything covered from here and that she needn't worry about Harry's well being anymore. Hermione had been insulted and angered by this, of course. She argued back that if it wasn't for her, neither Ron nor Harry would have thought to approach Madame Pomfrey about the Sleeping Draught and that they'd be right back at square one. She also thought that it was unfair how Ron was treating her like she was almost incompetent. Ron all but shouted that Hermione needed to stop insulting his intelligence in response and continued to rant about how he could come up with a plan that was just as brilliant as Hermione's, if not more so.

The two continued to quarrel, barely noticing Harry's bored expression. He crossed his arms and sighed as his friends raised their voices once more. The argument was completely tedious and a total waste of time, but Harry didn't want to interrupt them just yet. He was too tired to make much sense and play the peacemaker. He just hoped that one of them – probably Hermione – would realize how ridiculous their argument was and put a halt to it so they could get a move on.

Almost three minutes later, there was a short pause in the argument and Harry took advantage of it. "Both of you can come," he said softly, his voice a little rough and hoarse. Hermione and Ron looked up at Harry in surprise as if they just remembered that he was there. Harry cleared his throat before he continued in the same soft tone. "I don't have any objections to both of you coming with me. We do practically everything else together, don't we?"

At that, Hermione cracked a smile at Harry and cocked an eyebrow at Ron. "That is exactly what I was just telling Ronald here, wasn't it?" Hermione said, never taking her eyes off Ron. Ron only rolled his eyes in response and started walking in the direction of the Hospital Wing.

"Well, come on then! We're never going to get there by standing around like idiots all day!" he cried to Harry and Hermione, who shared a look before going after Ron. They practically ran to the Hospital Wing, obviously eager to test out Hermione's idea, and all but clambered into the large room that had almost become their second home at Hogwarts. Harry had hoped that this year would be a little bit different and that he wouldn't end up in the Hospital Wing quite so often, but by the way things were going now, that wasn't a very realistic hope. He knew it was stupid of him to wish it in the first place; ever since the Ministry incident, the war had intensified and now it felt like Harry would have to go into battle at any time.

Harry wanted to believe that as long as he was at Hogwarts, no harm could come to him, but he was finding it harder to believe with each day. Besides, Voldemort had found ways to hurt Harry without having to come anywhere near the castle.

Harry shook these depressing thoughts out of his head, remembering that he had come to the Hospital Wing to fix his aforementioned pain. Madame Pomfrey looked up from the patient's cot she was currently bent over when the Trio burst through the door slightly out of breath. She quirked an eyebrow, but merely shook her head when her eyes fell on Harry and clucked her tongue as she turned away from her patient – a sleeping, dark haired third year who had been the unfortunate recipient of a rather vicious _Oppugno_ spell – to face the Trio.

"What do the three of you need?" the nurse asked sternly with her hands on her hips. "Do you realize how late it is? It's almost past curfew. This better be an emergency!" Some of Harry's confidence dissipated once he heard the irritated tone in the usually kind witch's voice. He timidly opened his mouth to speak but luckily, Hermione saved his skin.

"We understand, Madame Pomfrey," she answered sweetly, giving the nurse her best 'teacher's pet' smile. "Ron and I fully intend to do our Prefect rounds after we return Harry to Gryffindor Tower." Ron groaned inwardly and grimaced at the mention of the Prefect duties he had yet to do for the night. "We do have a bit of an emergency, however." Hermione paused and glanced at Harry expectantly, but Harry remained silent. He thought Hermione had been doing a very good job of explaining their situation without his help and he wished she would continue. She continued to give him a look however and after nudging him, Harry reluctantly spoke up.

"I, uh…am having trouble falling asleep lately and I was wondering if I could get some Sleeping Draught from you," he said. Madame Pomfrey's expression softened considerably and she nodded in understanding as soon as Harry finished explaining himself.

"Oh, don't worry, dear. I've got plenty in stock. You'll be getting the sleep you need in no time," Madame Pomfrey insisted, giving Harry a warm smile. "Now, let me just see where I've put all my Sleeping Draughts. I'll be right back, you three, so stay put and keep quiet. She," Madame Pomfrey motioned to the sleeping third year, "has had quite a rough day. I'd rather not have you disturb her sleep." The three nodded in understanding and Madame Pomfrey bustled off to the small medicinal supply closet in the back of the Hospital Wing.

As soon as Madame Pomfrey disappeared into her supply closet, Ron turned to beam at Harry and Hermione. "We've done it, mate!" he grinned. "Now you'll be able to stay up on your broom during Quidditch practice tomorrow." Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, but smiled back at his friend anyway.

"Thank you so much, Hermione," Harry said, impulsively enveloping Hermione in a friendly hug. Hermione's cheeks flushed with pride and she tried to keep her goofy, proud smile off her face, but it was hard to. "You're always saving us from bad situations."

"Well, if you just thought on it hard and long enough, I'm sure you would have come up with the same solution," Hermione said, clearing her throat, but Harry doubted it. He and Ron weren't complete idiots, but they didn't have the amount of common sense and logic that Hermione did. Harry was sure that if it had not been for Hermione, many of their Hogwarts adventures would have failed miserably.

"Stop being so modest," Ron snorted, causing Hermione's cheeks to flush again. "You're not the brightest witch of our age for nothing, Hermione."

"Quiet, Ron! You'll wake that girl," Hermione chided playfully rather than responding to Ron's compliments. She couldn't hide her smile though.

Madame Pomfrey returned not a moment later, a stopped glass flask filled with a purple solution in her hands. Harry eagerly took it off her hands and immediately started to remove the black rubber stopper before Madame Pomfrey snatched the potion out of his hands. "Mr. Potter!" she cried, reprimanding him and clucking her tongue again. "You could at least wait until I've set your bed for the night before you go chugging down an entire night's worth of the potion!"

Harry almost whimpered when Madame Pomfrey took the potion out of his hands; just touching the cool flask made him feel that much more rested. He could definitely see some good sleep in his future. "But Madame Pomfrey, I'm not planning on staying in here overnight."

The nurse looked genuinely surprised at this statement and then quickly regained composure. "Oh. I simply assumed… No matter then. It saves me one patient to look after in the night, I suppose." Harry gave Madame Pomfrey an apologetic look; the Hospital Wing wasn't exactly on the most desired places to sleep in Hogwarts list and it looked especially empty and dreary tonight, with only the third year girl in the patients' room. He hardly thought his condition was bad enough for him to have to stay in the Hospital Wing overnight.

"In that case," Madame Pomfrey continued, tightening her fingers around the neck of the flask, "I suppose I should give this back to you then, Mr. Potter. Please refrain from tearing off the stopper until you've reached your bed." Hermione giggled quietly and Harry smiled sheepishly; he hadn't meant to look so desperate for the potion, but it was practically his only salvation at this point. "Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger, please look after Mr. Potter and make sure that he doesn't have a single _sip_ of that potion until he's safely in his dorm room. I would hate for him to have to come back after this visit." Both Ron and Hermione nodded in response.

"Once you've returned Mr. Potter safe and sound, I expect you two to do your Prefect patrols about the castle. Those badges aren't solely for decoration, I assure you," Madame Pomfrey smiled at the Trio, relaxing her grip on the flask and handing it over to Harry. "Have a good night, all of you. Now off with you!" She shooed the three students and after giving her their thanks and goodnight wishes, they left the Hospital Wing in a much better mood than they'd entered it in.

Harry was looking forward to bedtime for the first time in months.

**~*~**

Harry sat on the edge of his bed with his legs dangling off the side, holding the flask in his hand. He had put his glasses up on his nightstand already and he'd done everything else to get ready for bed. Half the boys in his dorm were already in their beds with their curtains drawn. By the sound of it, Neville was already well asleep. The boys who were still awake were saying their goodnights to everyone else and were ready for bed.

Harry was anxious to take the Sleeping Draught and test its power, but he also worried about how powerful it would be. He hoped he wouldn't be knocked out immediately but at the same time he didn't want to have to wait more than five or ten minutes for the potion's effects to kick in. He hoped that stressing out about it wouldn't deter the potion's effects but just in case it did, Harry took a couple of deep breaths and tried to relax.

He looked at the flask in his hand again and wished that Ron was with him to tell him that he was being a complete nutter and to just get it over with, but Ron couldn't be with him then. Ron had tried to stay at Harry's side, not only to flake out on his Prefect duties, but to support his friend. He'd insisted that Harry needed him just in case something happened with the potion, but Hermione wasn't hearing it. She'd only frowned and dragged Ron off anyway, apologizing to Harry and wishing him luck with the potion.

"It was administered by Madame Pomfrey, Ron," Hermione had said, rolling her eyes. "Harry's got nothing to worry about."

Harry thought about that now and smiled a little before unstopping the flask and downing the potion as he tossed his head back. Like most potions, it had a slightly bitter taste – it reminded Harry of really sour blueberries – but Harry barely noticed. He swayed a little after he'd swallowed all of it and blinked a couple of times before he put the empty flask up on his nightstand next to his glasses.

Harry felt a bit of a tingly sensation go throughout his body and he quickly climbed under the sheets on his bed, worried that the potion was kicking in already. Moments after he placed his head on his pillow, his eyelids grew heavy and he shut his eyes without any reluctance. Before much time had passed at all, Harry was fast asleep with the Sleeping Draught to thank.

Unfortunately, all was not well.

As soon as Harry's eyes shut, darkness came over him. He seemed to open his eyes again, but he was met with pitch black darkness. He no longer felt like he was safe under his comforter but instead in a cold, dark, dreary room. If Harry didn't know any better, he'd say that he was surrounded by Dementors – the feeling of hopelessness and depression was in the air, but it was a lot more muted than it would have been had Dementors been in the room with him. Still, the thought didn't comfort Harry one bit.

All of a sudden, a heavy wave of claustrophobia came over Harry and his throat closed up as it became increasingly hard for him to breathe. As he choked for air, an eerily evil laugh echoed in the darkness behind him. Harry turned around to face it, incredibly panicked, but even when he seemed to turn around, the laugh was still behind him. The laugh became louder and more intimidating and Harry began to move about hysterically, almost completely losing his wits.

He felt like calling out and telling the voice to stop laughing, but before he could gather the courage to speak the laughter died down. There was a moment of silence in which Harry tried to calm himself down and take a few breaths, convincing himself that there was nothing to be afraid of. The pregnant moment of silence passed and a rather cold and unfortunately familiar voice filled the air. Harry clenched his jaw once he recognized the speaker and his hand immediately went for his wand. He was surprised to find himself unarmed and silently cursed himself and his luck.

"Harry, Harry, Harry… Did you really think you could evade me for this long?" Voldemort called, his voice booming through the otherwise empty room. Harry could practically hear the sneer in Voldemort's voice. He desperately wished he could see something – _anything_ – but as it was, he couldn't even make out the shape of his hand in front of his face. His fist instinctively clenched around his absent wand and Harry's eyes searched the darkness for Voldemort. He figured that the Dark Lord had to be somewhere in that room.

"I'm not _evading_ you," Harry shot back, sounding a lot braver than he felt. "I've got no reason to run away from the likes of you."

"Insolent child!" Voldemort barked, obviously upset. Out of nowhere, a jet of red light shot out and hit Harry on the shoulder. He staggered and fell upon the ground, the red light imprinted on the insides of his eyelids. Voldemort cackled and Harry grimaced as he struggled to get back up. His shoulder felt slightly disconnected from the rest of his body and Harry thought it might have even been bleeding. "You will learn."

"Learn what?" Harry spat, narrowing his eyes at the darkness before him. "That you're nothing but a sodding, worthless coward? I've known that for a while, Tom!" Another jet of light came out from the blackness and hit Harry's legs, causing him to fall over as an incredible prickling pain shot up through his legs. He roared and hissed in pain as he rolled around on the floor; it felt as if his legs were on fire. Finally, the curse was lifted and Harry was left panting on the ground, sweat beginning to form on his face.

"You will learn to keep your mouth shut, Potter," Voldemort hissed. "You will learn that I am undefeatable. You will learn to submit to me, Harry. You have no other choice."

"You're wrong," Harry panted, glaring into the darkness, still wondering where Voldemort's voice was coming from. Surely the man was physically in the room – how else could he have attacked Harry? "I always have a choice. And I'll never submit to you!"

"Even when no one believes in you, Harry Potter? Even when the Wizarding world has given up on you as its savior? Will you still resist me?" Voldemort mocked. Harry made a noise in the back of his throat and Voldemort cackled as he watched Harry try to locate the origin of the voice. "Still looking for me, Potter? Funnily enough, I'm right in front of you." Voldemort appeared before Harry like a mist, first just a vague shape but then a human figure. Harry clenched his jaw again as Voldemort solidified before him, the snakelike creature just as disgusting as ever. Harry wished he had his wand on him so he could finish off the vermin once and for all.

Voldemort's words almost struck a chord with Harry, but he ignored the pang he got in his chest. If he were to be honest, one of his biggest fears was that his friends would eventually turn on him or lose faith and get scared of him, like some of the Wizarding world already had and already was. He was afraid that they would believe that his connection with Voldemort wasn't entirely unwanted and that maybe Harry was a bigger Dark wizard than they'd thought. Something like it had happened during his second year when everyone found out that Harry was a Parselmouth and that only he could open the Chamber of Secrets; he felt almost completely ostracized by his peers then and many people seemed to believe that he was evil. Percy Weasley had even been convinced that Harry was no good; although he was later proved wrong, the fact that a Weasley could doubt him hurt Harry very much – even if it was just Percy.

It certainly wasn't impossible that something like that could happen again. The thought made Harry queasy and uneasy and he tried his best to reassure himself that his friends were nothing but supportive and even if the rest of the Wizarding world didn't believe him, he still had them and the Order. They were practically his family and family stuck together through thick and thin.

Harry tried to get up on his feet and face Voldemort, but the pains in his legs had not fully subsided. Putting pressure on his calf muscles made his legs sting and he hissed before lowering himself back down on the floor. He felt like a cripple and Voldemort smirked smugly down at him, obviously taking delight in Harry's weakness and his position of power. Harry remembered then that he was also wandless and in no position to challenge Voldemort, so rather than using his actions to convey his feelings, he chose his words carefully.

"It's a shame for you that that's only a hypothetical situation," Harry replied, grimacing at Voldemort. "There will always be people who believe in me and there will always be people who are waiting for your inevitable downfall, _Tom_. And, just to humor you, let's say that everyone turned their backs on me, yeah? I'll still fight just as strongly because seeing your face and their faces when I prove you all wrong will be priceless. And, as I'm sure you're well aware, I've got some people waiting for me in the afterlife that I can't let down." Harry grinned when he finished and the Dark Lord merely sneered at the boy who couldn't move.

"Noble as always, Harry. Good speech," Voldemort drawled, apparently now bored with all the chatter. "I know all about your little family waiting for you in the afterlife. Tell them I said hello, will you? I expect you'll be joining them much sooner than expected! _Avada Kedavra_!"

A surge of deathly green light that ironically matched the color of Harry's eyes expelled from the tip of Voldemort's wand. Harry's breath hitched in his throat and his life flashed before his eyes. _This is it_, he thought resignedly. _This is how I'm gonna go._ He wanted to move or prevent it from happening somehow, but he knew that he couldn't defeat death twice and his legs still hurt too much for him to move out of harm's way. The curse was moments away from hitting him when something very solid hit Harry in the side and subsequently pushed him away. Harry skidded across the floor on his backside and pain shot up through his legs once more, but he tried to concentrate on what it was that had pushed him out of the way.

Upon looking up, he locked eyes with Ginny Weasley who was unnaturally bright and distinctive from the blackness surrounding her. Her brown eyes were bright with warmth and something else Harry couldn't quite place his finger on, but he didn't like the feel of it. It became clear to Harry only too late that Ginny had taken his place in the aim of the Killing Curse, but from the look in Ginny's eyes, Harry caught on that this was fully intentional.

"I owe you one," she mouthed to him, a smile gracing her pink lips before the green light hit her squarely in the chest. Her expression frozen into the pleasant, peaceful smile, Ginny Weasley fell over onto the black floor underneath her, completely lifeless. Harry's heart stopped beating for a few moments and his throat felt incredibly blocked. His head began to throb right where his scar was and when he finally found his voice again, he let out such a blood-curdling scream that it shocked even him.

"GINNY!" Harry screamed, his eyes widening as he watched one of his good friends go down. All that answered him however was silence. Harry's blood ran cold when he realized he couldn't feel much of a magical aura from Ginny. Part of him wanted to run over to her lifeless body and hold her against him, but it would be more creepy than comforting and the other part of him thought it would make him unbearably queasy, so Harry restrained himself. He imagined that Ginny was still warm – her body probably still thought she was alive, Harry thought with a choke – and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to cry or just freeze.

"One more for Harry Potter," Voldemort sneered coldly, shaking Harry from his depressing thoughts. "My goodness, Potter, how many will have to die before you give up? Name any number; I shall do it." Voldemort grinned in the hideous, snakelike way that only he could grin in and Harry's stomach churned with hurt and anger. He tightened his fist around his absent wand, knowing that if he was armed Voldemort wouldn't stand a chance.

"You don't _have_ to kill _anybody_!" Harry cried out angrily, tears already stinging at the corner of his eyes. "She didn't have to die!"

"No," a familiar voice spoke up in an unfamiliarly cold, harsh tone. "No, she didn't." Harry whipped his head around and his eyes fell on not only Ron Weasley, who had been the one to speak, but the entire Weasley clan sans Ginny. Their usually bright, happy faces were pale and drawn, their dark freckles prominent against their skin. They were all glaring at Harry with a kind of detestation and hate that Harry had never felt before, especially not from the family he'd once called his own. Mr. Weasley's eyes were swimming with tears and there were already dark tear tracks on Mrs. Weasley's face, although she looked more upset and angry than devastated. Occasionally, her eyes flitted over to Ginny's body and a lump would appear in her throat, but in the next moment she would snap her attention back to Harry and glowered at the boy so intensely that he _wished_ Voldemort would finish him off.

Still, it was Ron's look of utter disgust and disappointment that just about broke Harry's heart. "Ron," he called out softly, almost whimpering. Ron's eyes narrowed immediately and Harry was too surprised to say anymore.

"Don't talk to me, _traitor_," Ron spat, twitching and shaking a little. He was no longer as pale as his relatives, but a furious red that very vividly represented how he felt. "Ginny didn't deserve to die, but you do!" Ron began to charge towards Harry, causing the dark haired boy to flinch, but he was held back by Percy, who had the snottiest, hardest look on his face of all the Weasleys.

"Don't, Ron," Percy ordered stiffly, the unforgiving tone in his voice almost physically causing Harry pain. "He's not worth it." Ron nodded but he didn't entirely stop struggling against his brother's hold. Since Percy wouldn't let him go however, Ron decided to throw words instead of punches.

"What reason did you have to kill her, Harry? What did she ever do to you? What did _we_ ever do to you?" Ron shouted, sounding more hurt than anything. Harry was choking on his words before they could even come out of his mouth.

Finally, he managed a sentence. "I didn't kill her!" he exclaimed, staring wide-eyed at all the Weasleys. His eyes flitted from face to face, hoping to find even a bit of sympathy in just one, but his efforts were to no avail.

"What are you talking about, Harry?" Fred screeched when Ron had resorted to incoherent sputtering at Harry's response. "You're still holding the wand you did it with!"

Harry blinked at the Weasleys and furrowed his brow in confusion. _A wand? The last time I checked, I…_ His thoughts stopped abruptly as he blinked again and realized that not only was he holding an unfamiliar wand in his hand, but he was also standing without suffering from any pain in his legs. Above all else though, he was standing a few feet in front of Ginny's dead body in a fighting stance. He was standing where Voldemort had been.

The new view of Ginny's body wasn't any better and only made Harry feel worse. It did look like he had been the one who killed Ginny and Harry opened his mouth to tell the Weasley's that it wasn't true. He would _never_ kill Ginny; he had absolutely no reason to and even if he did… Harry tried to tell the Weasley's that Voldemort had been the one who had killed Ginny, but first he had to figure out where Voldemort had gone. He still felt the man's magical presence, so he was still _there_, but where?

Harry blinked as he tried to figure it out. How was he suddenly in Voldemort's previous position? Harry looked over at the spot he'd been in moments before, but Voldemort certainly wasn't crumpled up pathetically on the floor. _So where…?_ Harry didn't get to complete his thought before he looked up at the Weasleys again. The sight before him made his heart sink. Voldemort was standing right behind the Weasley clan, a smug look on his face.

This vision of Voldemort made Harry want to hex him even more. Harry's fist instinctively tightened around the wand in his hand, but he didn't dare chance using it. He wasn't sure how his magic would work if he used someone else's wand and Voldemort wasn't in a good position for Harry to hit him in; Harry could very well accidentally hit one of the Weasleys. He was already in enough trouble with them as it was; he didn't need to openly attack them as well.

But then _what to do_?

"No…" Harry murmured, shaking his head. This wasn't right. This wasn't right at all. He was never supposed to kill Ginny. Ginny was one of the last people he had left – he'd never— "No, it wasn't me. It was a…accident. It wasn't me!" Harry pleaded, looking up at the Weasleys who all stared him down with icy, stony expressions, some faces marred by tears.

"An accident?" Percy cried, looking as if he wanted to spit on the very ground Harry stood on. "Your excuses get worse and worse, Potter!"

"What do you mean _an accident_?" Molly screeched, making Harry cringe not only because of the volume, pitch and tone of her voice, but because this was his second mother and now… "How dare you call my daughter's death an accident?! What do you think this is? A mere casualty of war?" Ron bristled and Harry shook his head fervently, as if that would make them believe him.

"No! No, Mrs. Weasley, I—"

"Enough! SILENCE!" Voldemort called, his voice seemingly echoing off the darkness of the room. "I think Harry here has said enough." The Weasleys seemed to agree with Voldemort, which was what surprised Harry the most. They seemed to be fully aware that the darkest wizard of all time was standing right behind them and they had no problem with it. Had they turned sides? Embraced traditional pureblood values? Harry wouldn't believe it; it wasn't as if the pureblood community would be welcoming to them anyway.

Voldemort caught Harry's eye and smirked as if he had just won a long and hard game of wizard's chess. The sinking feeling in Harry's heart only deepened. "They give up on you so easily, don't they?" Voldemort sneered as he stared straight at Harry, obviously referring to the Weasleys. Harry just stood there in stunned silence. This couldn't be happening. Voldemort didn't wait another moment before his expression greatly changed; he now looked ready for war. "Kill him!" he ordered and the moment the words were out of his mouth, the Weasleys went charging after Harry, wands in hand.

Once Harry realized what was happening, he swore under his breath and sprinted off into one of the corners of darkness, Voldemort's wand still in his hand. He had no idea where he was going because everything was black, but it seemed like he was getting away from the Weasleys for the most part. They were all aiming curses at him and jets of light shot past his head at alarming speeds, only to get sucked into the darkness ahead. Harry wondered if it would ever end and the moment the thought crossed his mind, the darkness began to clear into gray and soon he found himself in a small clearing, not unlike the ones at the beginning of mazes.

This clearing, however, seemed a little more familiar than most. "Wait a minute…" Harry murmured to himself, pausing at the start for a moment. The Weasleys' voices sounded safely far away, so Harry figured he had a couple of seconds to take a quick breather. Once he looked up from the grass on the ground, Harry found himself surrounded by large walls of shrubbery and he realized where he knew this place from. It _was_ a maze. A maze that looked just like the one from the Tri-Wizard tournament.

Harry tightened his jaw as he realized what this could possibly mean and what probably lay ahead, waiting for him in this maze, but suddenly the Weasleys' voices were much closer than they'd previously been. "I see him! Over there!" Harry heard George shout.

"Let's get him, the nasty little murderer!"

There were several entrances to the maze and Harry didn't know which one would lead him to safety (or the closest thing to it), but he did know that he was running out of time and rather quickly. He had to make a split-second decision and so he chose the entrance that was right in front of him and just in time, because Mrs. Weasley had shot what looked like a Body Binding Curse at him. Harry continued to blindly run forward and he knew that if he had no idea where he was going, neither would the Weasleys. As it was, a few moments later, he heard a cry from a very outraged Mr. Weasley.

"Split up! We'll find him! He can't have gotten too far into this mess…"

Harry let out a breath of relief but he knew that he couldn't stay still for too long or they would find him. Clenching his jaw, Harry took off down the path he'd chosen, totally unsure of where he was going but knowing that the farther away from the Weasleys it took him, the better. For the most part, the maze seemed otherwise safe and uninhabited, something Harry was very grateful for. He could really do without any creatures besides the Weasleys coming after him. All Harry could hear was his own steady breathing and the bristling of the leaves in the walls of the maze as he brushed past them when he ran. He could also hear his and the Weasleys' steady footfalls and the occasional angry shout from a Weasley when they grew particularly frustrated during their fruitless search for Harry.

Harry heard something moving in a part of the maze very close to him and out of frightened instinct, he made a sharp turn in the maze but it unfortunately led him to a dead end. Harry would've gone back and chosen a different path in the maze but the image before him had him shocked and frozen in place. It was almost as if he were standing right there again, as if that very moment was happening – not even replaying itself in his head, but actually happening over again. All the sounds were familiar, the eerie silence, the haunting feelings, the immense pain, the looming and ever-present darkness…

It was as if Harry were back in his fourth year all over again.

"_Kill the spare."_

He'd been in too much pain then to really see it – to really watch just how Cedric Diggory fell so…casually to his death. It had been so unlike Cedric – there was no kind of ceremony to his death at all. No last heroic plunge. No dramatics at all.

A simple Killing Curse and he laid before Harry, spread-eagled on the ground.

Everything was just as it had been that night – Harry keeled over in pain from his scar, the sudden blast of green light, the cold, high-pitched voice from the bundle in the cloaked man's arms – no, from _Voldemort_ – the setting was exactly the same. Just muted. The pain Harry had felt during the actual scene was but a dull buzz in his bones and his scar this time around. Granted, he was only a spectator now – an _unwilling_ spectator, but merely a spectator nonetheless.

_So that was how Cedric really died._

The moment just replayed itself, making Harry's stomach clench uncontrollably. He felt weaker with every passing moment, every time he had to watch the jet of green light hit Cedric and simply end him.

The sight of Cedric's fallen, lifeless body shook Harry out of his trance and with wide eyes, a re-disturbed mind and an uncontrollably shaking body, he tried to stumble away from the scene, which had decided to replay itself like a broken record. Harry could feel the bile stirring up in his stomach; he felt so uncomfortable, so queasy and nauseous. Part of him wished that Voldemort was there to kill him right then – that _somebody_ was there to kill him – to put him out of his misery and discomfort. He felt so sick.

Practically heaving, Harry brought himself out of the dead end only to come face to face (or rather, face to wand) with a very furious looking Ronald Weasley. "Checkmate," Ron drawled with a very grim smirk on his lips. Harry's eyes widened and his waves of nausea were temporarily forgotten as fear consumed him again and he tried to run away from Ron. Harry tripped over his feet trying to turn around and couldn't move fast enough. Ron hit him square in the shoulder with a particularly nasty curse, deepening Harry's wound from the hit he'd taken in his shoulder from Voldemort's curse.

Harry hissed, almost blind with pain, and he staggered and fell to the ground, still clutching Voldemort's wand, but also clutching at his burning shoulder wound. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the pain, but he could hear Ron approaching him slowly, possibly calling out to the other Weasleys that he'd found Harry. Harry hissed again and his breathing got heavier, his stomach collapsing with every breath in. When Harry opened his eyes again, there was a small green snake in front of him, tilting its head sideways and looking straight at Harry. Harry blinked, hoping that the snake was actually a harmless garden snake and hadn't come to kill him. Just as Harry thought this, he heard several footsteps – obviously the Weasleys coming to claim their prize.

He grimaced and the snake hissed at him, calling for his attention. "I can help you," it told him, glancing up at Ron who was still behind Harry, giving his fallen ex-friend the dirtiest look he could muster. Harry could feel it, but he didn't dare look up at Ron, planning on staying still for as long as possible if it meant he could escape eventually.

Harry swallowed and looked straight at the snake, silently asking it how it could help him. He didn't want to speak Parseltongue in front of Ron – he didn't want to give the Weasleys another reason for them to want his blood. They had made it very clear that they were not fans of the Dark tongue and Harry knew it'd only mean trouble for him if one of them overheard him speaking it, especially now.

"I can show you to safety. Just follow me when I go," the snake hissed lowly, motioning with its head towards a path that Harry was sure hadn't been there moments ago. He gave the snake one last look and nodded slowly and very slightly so that Ron wouldn't notice the movement. Behind him, Harry heard several voices, all of them belonging to the Weasleys and all of them sounding the most vengeful he'd ever heard them. He closed his eyes tightly for a split second just to pray for his life and soul and when he opened them, the snake was still in place. It seemed to wink at Harry and waited several minutes before hissing, "Now!" and slithering off quickly.

Harry jerked to life, scrambling up to his feet as quickly (and as painlessly) as he could and started following the fast snake. He held onto his injured shoulder as he ran and when they were a few feet away, Harry heard an outraged cry come from Ron. Then there was the sharp tongue of Molly Weasley and someone else said something about catching Harry again, but by that point, Harry was too far away to hear. The snake was going much faster than Harry thought it would and the pace he had to keep up was quickly tiring Harry, but he kept it up if only to save his life. Not before long, he and the snake had outrun Ron and the Weasleys and Harry didn't have to keep looking over his shoulder as he ran.

But then the snake stopped abruptly and arched up in a very defensive pose, hissing at something in front of it rather viciously. Harry looked up and was met with the sight of Neville Longbottom, dressed in the same striped pajamas he'd worn the night that Harry, Hermione and Ron had snuck out in their first year. The memory brought back some memories that were painful to think of then and Harry clenched his jaw, trying not to think about how much had changed since then. But apparently, not much had changed with Neville, because Harry was getting a serious sense of déjà vu.

"I won't let you through!" Neville protested, spreading his arms out. That was when Harry noticed that Neville was standing in front of a large wooden door, one that was both taller and wider than he was – at least by twice as much. "You'll go no further!"

Harry didn't really know what to do, but he knew he had to think fast because, as far away as they were, he could hear the voices of the approaching Weasleys. His shoulder was still very sore and hurt from that curse Ron had thrown at him; Harry didn't want to get into any more trouble. Still, it was obvious that Neville wasn't planning on budging from his spot anytime soon. The snake hissed rather menacingly before Harry at Neville, but besides a small twitch in Neville's expression, the boy did not change his stance. Harry was impressed but he also wondered what was behind that door that Neville was so adamant to protect.

Then the thought struck Harry that perhaps Neville wasn't protecting what was behind the doors, but possibly preventing Harry from _getting to_ what was behind the doors. Harry frowned and waves of doubt came over him. The snake seemed to sense this and turned its small head towards Harry, its yellowish eyes flashing dangerously. Even though the snake had led Harry safely away from Ron, he now felt incredibly threatened by it.

"Do away with him!" the snake commanded, its tongue darting about. Harry glanced back and forth between the snake and Neville, who had paled by several shades since the snake started conversing with Harry – he was obviously uncomfortable with the use of Parseltongue. Harry was rather hesitant about listening to the snake. Perhaps it wasn't as good as Harry had thought it to be. Harry had no intention to "do away with" Neville – such a thing went against all his morals.

Still, he had to go somewhere and this was the only end to the maze he could find. Harry didn't want to kill Neville but he also didn't want to be killed. The snake hissed at him again, clearly upset with Harry's hesitance and indecision.

"Do it! We need him out of our way!" the snake insisted, making Harry even more uncomfortable. For some reason, Harry felt drawn and attached to the snake – something which also worried him. He did not want to make his companion unhappy.

"I can't kill him," Harry muttered in response, shaking his head slightly, his hand curling tightly around Voldemort's wand. "I _won't_ kill him."

"Do _something_!"

"Harry?" Neville stammered, his eyes wide with fright but also burning with determination. Harry hesitated for a second more before whipping out his wand and firing a quick Stunning Spell, knocking the boy out. Harry barely had enough time to watch Neville crumple to the ground before the snake was hissing at him that they had to keep moving forward. Harry gave Neville's unconscious body a quick apologetic look as he went by. The snake had already wriggled itself under the door and into the room, so Harry was quick to open the door.

He was surprised to find himself in the second floor girls' bathroom, a sight which was met with wide eyes. He was not pleased to find himself in this part of Hogwarts again; despite all the business from his second year being over and done with years ago, this bathroom in particular still made Harry uncomfortable. It was the only part of Hogwarts that could make him feel so unsafe. It was an illogical feeling, he knew, but that didn't stop him from feeling it.

All the stalls were exactly as he remembered them although Moaning Myrtle was nowhere to be found. The floors were flooded, as usual, and the sinks were all in their proper places. Including _the_ sink – the one that held the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets – the one that the snake was currently resting at the foot of. It had an almost sly look on its face and an expectant expression in its eyes. It clearly knew that it was leading Harry to this very spot the entire time – and certainly understood the meaning of the place too – and that brought along a strong feeling of betrayal in Harry. What did the snake want him there for?

"Open it," the snake commanded. Harry had not yet moved from his spot in the doorway. He had no desire to be in that room or to open anything ever again. The meaning and the ties behind that entrance were too much for him. He didn't want to revisit those memories.

"I can't," he protested, narrowing his eyes at the snake. "Why did you lead me here?"

"You have nowhere else to go," the snake hissed at him in a cool, casual tone as if this were an everyday occurrence. Harry was beginning to feel queasy again – when did he get so weak? "This is where you were meant to end up. You have always been destined to end here, Harry Potter. This is your destiny, as the Heir of Slytherin."

"I am not the heir!" Harry cried, trying to block out all the memories that were currently trying to attack his vision. He didn't want to revisit the feeling of total abandonment when his friends had turned on him, thinking him evil and a bad seed. He didn't want to think about any of that. It all gave him a headache.

Perhaps investing in some Occlumency lessons would pay off for him. It seemed that Harry would need all the help he could get just to protect himself from his own mind.

"Open the chamber, Harry," the snake hissed, its tongue darting in and out of its mouth. Harry shook his head but even then he could feel his willpower fading. Something within him called out to the Chamber. Something within him wanted to reopen the Chamber. Something compelled him and made him step closer to the fountain and _that_ sink. He was seconds away from saying the words…

_No!_ Harry's mind seemed to snap and it was as if a bucket of ice cold water had been poured over his head. What had he been thinking? "I will not!" he told the snake, backing out of the room slowly.

"It's your only choice!" the snake tried again, hissing maniacally, the sound like nails on a chalkboard to Harry. "You are meant to be here, Harry Potter! You belong in the chamber!"

"No, I don't!" Harry exclaimed, alarmed when the faucet handles on the sink began to turn and uncoil of their own accord. The chamber was opening. Suddenly the only thing Harry could think of was running out of that room as quickly as he could. He turned and headed for the exit, taking a brief moment to wonder whether the Weasleys would be waiting for him in the maze once he got out. He didn't have much time to dwell on this thought however, as the snake slithered after him and bit him hard on the ankle, causing Harry to cry out and fall, tumbling through the exit.

He hissed as he heard the door behind him close again, but his eyes were closed from the intense pain in his ankle. He certainly couldn't stand now. Biting down on his lip, Harry opened his eyes and looked up, expecting to see the maze, an unconscious Neville and a horde of furious Weasleys, but instead, he was met with darkness. Complete and utter darkness, just like before.

Only this time, the darkness seemed to be alive.

It seemed to swirl about him and it made him dizzy. He felt nauseous and suddenly depressed, almost lifeless and drained. All hope and happiness seemed to simply leave his body. He felt weak – weaker than he had ever felt – and the pain in his ankle toned down to a mere buzz as most of his feelings left his body and he was consumed with thoughts of death, of dying, of giving up…

_Dementors_, Harry realized as his eyes refocused a little and he could see that the darkness actually was Dementors swirling about his head. Too many of them. Harry was just drowning in miserable feelings. He felt like he'd never see the light of day again and it absolutely tortured him. Was this what Azkaban prisoners had to go through? It was worse than any death penalty Harry could think of. It surely had to be worse than death itself.

Harry had no will to fight, no will to live. He simply sat there, the dull aching in his shoulder and his ankle and seemingly everywhere in his body the only things reminding him that he was still alive. He just wanted it to end. What could be worse than simply wishing for death? What could be worse than impatiently waiting for it to come and hanging on your last thread, wishing it would abruptly be cut?

As if it were answering Harry's silent prayer, a Dementor broke free from the swirling chain and swooped down in front of Harry, its ghoul-like form almost a relief to Harry. The Dementor began to perform the Dementor's Kiss on him, but Harry didn't struggle. He couldn't find the energy or the desire within himself. He had known this was coming. He had accepted it. He had given up already. Now the only thing to do was live with his decision – or rather, die with it.

He could feel his soul splitting and the last bits of life draining from his small, scrawny body. Harry had wanted fast relief, but the kiss seemed to drag on, tearing him away bit by bit. When it seemed that he couldn't even think or move anymore, a stag Patronus appeared in the distance, its strong, bright silvery light contrasting greatly with the black wispy darkness surrounding it. For a mere flash of a nanosecond, Harry felt some sliver of hope and a surge of energy, but upon seeing him, the Patronus simply lifted its chin and turned its back on Harry, galloping off in the opposite direction.

Had Harry been conscious enough to do so, he probably would have snorted in disbelief or cried – perhaps even a combination of the two. But he was within an inch of life as this point and there was nothing he could do. Nothing but ultimately give up and succumb to the dreadful feeling the Dementors gave him.

_Succumb to the darkness._

Suddenly Harry bolted awake, panting incredibly heavily with a film of sweat covering his entire body. He felt hot underneath his pajamas and had an aching desire to toss off all his clothes. He felt suffocated and amazingly uncomfortable, like he was suffering from a severe panic attack. He could barely breathe.

Harry then felt a hand on his shoulder and he whipped his head to the side, surprised and alarmed to see Ron standing beside his bed with the curtains drawn back, looking shocked and worried, his face drawn and pale. Ron's hand felt stiflingly hot against Harry's skin and Harry shook himself out of the grip, glancing away from Ron miserably. However, the next sight that met his bleary eyes wasn't much better.

In front of him, scattered about the dorm, were all the sixth year Gryffindor boys, all fully awake and staring at Harry. Some were still in their beds, their covers and curtains drawn back, and some had sprung out of their beds and now stood. They all had the same expression on their faces – a mix of shock, fear and intense anxiety.

Neville stood near the middle of the dorm, in between his and Harry's beds. He had his comforter held about himself for comfort as if it were a cloak that could protect him from evil. He looked at Harry much like a frightened child would after receiving a particularly harsh scolding and his bottom lip trembled as he struggled to say something.

"Y-you s-said my name," he choked out, his knuckles practically white as they held his comforter up against his body. Harry, whose eyes had rested on Neville until the boy had spoken, could not bring himself to look at Neville now. "Y-you s-said my name."

Ron was the only boy remotely close to Harry. All the others seemed too frightened to approach him, probably scared that he would lash out at them or that he really was possessed. Clearly what they had just seen was unusual and alarming, but Harry couldn't help but think bitterly that they didn't know the half of it. An uncomfortable silence had fallen over the dorm and Harry, who had been bowing his head, buried his face in his hands and just massaged his brow for a few moments.

He could vividly remember every bit of his nightmare, even a few moments after it had ended. It wasn't something he'd like to keep in his memory however. He felt so embarrassed and ashamed. He had woken his entire dorm with his nonsense…and it wasn't even supposed to happen tonight. Wasn't that what the potion had been for? To prevent something like this?

It seemed that it only made his situation worse. Harry barely felt any more rested now than he had when he'd gone to sleep. Granted, it didn't seem as though much time had passed since then, but even a couple of hours of sleep should have made him feel better. Instead he just felt drained and exhausted, much like he had in his nightmare.

Harry cursed himself and his luck. What was he supposed to do now? Hermione would certainly insist that he get help from Snape and Dumbledore now – she'd probably threaten to go to them herself once she heard about this – but as far as Harry was concerned, that still wasn't an option. Whatever Madame Pomfrey had given him clearly wasn't helping any and he certainly didn't want a repeat performance. That didn't leave many options for him.

Harry groaned internally. Things were looking pretty hopeless. He was not looking forward to breakfast.

"You need help, mate," Ron said simply after a few moments of the uncomfortable silence had passed. He didn't dare try to put his hand back on Harry's shoulder after the boy's violent reaction to his earlier gesture. Ron's voice sounded shaky despite his attempts to make it sound strong and even. He couldn't help it; he _was_ pretty shaken up.

Harry shut his eyes tightly and sighed.

"Yeah…" he answered. "I know."

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